Her throaty, full-bodied “Merry Christmas” gets your attention, as does the familiar ring of her bell. As the coins fall into the metal kettle, a resounding “God bless you” follows.

Dressed in black slacks, matching black running shoes with white soles, a Christmasy red sweatshirt, and one of those kooky Santa Claus caps with antlers, she is black as coal with a smile as wide and white as the tires we used to admire in the 1950s. Oh, yes, she proudly wears the Salvation Army red vest, and the seasonal ubiquitous red kettle stands beside her.

As I pulled out my wallet for a donation, I asked, and she told me her name was Louisa, and she’d been a bell ringer since she was a kid of twelve. She’s quite a bit older now but has not lost her enthusiasm for “bringing in the sheaves.”

Her distinctive creole Geechee accent warms your heart and soul when you hear her roll off a “Merry Christmas, and God bless you.” She is the smile I hope one day to see from an angel who greets me at the Gate.

“Miss Louisa, no doubt you enjoy your work,” I can affirmatively say.

“Oh, yes suh, not my work, this is God’s work,” that smile again.

Miss Louisa learned the same lesson I did in my preteen years. The Salvation Army was there for our grandparents when no one else was or could help. Louisa is from the southern coastal region of South Carolina, and my family comes from western Kentucky through Appalachia. Her family worked on rice plantations, and my family worked in the timber and coal fields.

And at both times following World War II, the war that would end all wars, our families needed help to stay afloat.

When tragedy struck, Patillar Gunther, my grandfather, and his twin Jack were cutting timbers for the underground rich coal mines in Eastern Kentucky. Jack seriously injured his leg and got laid up for months. Grandfather worked double shifts to try to stay ahead of the train.

Major James, the ranking Army person in Harlan, his wife, Sister Jane, and the neighbors brought food and provided weekly nursing care to Jack. The Salvation Army, their neighbors, and the local Pentecostal church brought Christmas food, gifts, and clothes. They asked no questions and made no judgments of the family; they just showed the love of God. Patillar and Jack never forgot.

That life-changing experience led Grandfather and Uncle Jack to sit us grandkids down and tell us the story of the miracle of the mountains each Christmas Eve for as long as they lived.

Grandfather never had much, nor did Jack, but love for the “Army” was instilled. One of them would take us to the “kettle” each Christmas to donate. And, of course, the bell ringer always said, “God bless,” and we returned that sentiment in our quiet little voices.

The Salvation Army, founded in 1865 in London, England, has been helping the poor and needy find their way to Jesus Christ and giving a hand up when others would or could not.

With much love, “God Bless you, Miss Louisa.”